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<title>- once upon a december  ( 𝐄.𝐕. ) by dissidentvedder</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27138106">- once upon a december  ( 𝐄.𝐕. )</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dissidentvedder/pseuds/dissidentvedder'>dissidentvedder</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥 𝐣𝐚𝐦 [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Pearl Jam</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Inspired by Anastasia (1997 &amp; Broadway), Romanov family, Song: Once Upon a December (Anastasia 1997 &amp; Broadway)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:42:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,367</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27138106</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dissidentvedder/pseuds/dissidentvedder</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>anastasia!au. 1900s!au. after [y/n]’s narrow escape from the alexander palace, she lost most, if not all, memory of her childhood, only remembering the tiny details that would help her later on in life. this is the first part of a duology.<br/>THIS FIC CONTAINS a generalized russian accent; this story is both of my own creation and inspirations (listed below); mentions of death.<br/>A/N - layout by @adoresobs!<br/>INSPIRATIONS -  @zodiyack ‘s princess. anastasia (1997).</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eddie Vedder/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥 𝐣𝐚𝐦 [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1731328</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. - once upon a december  ( 𝐄.𝐕. )</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><ul>
<li>anastasia!au. 1900s!au. after [y/n]’s narrow escape from the alexander palace, she lost most, if not all, memory of her childhood, only remembering the tiny details that would help her later on in life. this is the first part of a duology.</li>
<li>
<b>THIS FIC CONTAINS </b>ageneralized russian accent; this story is both of my own creation and inspirations (listed below); mentions of death.</li>
<li>
<b>A/N </b>- layout by <a href="https://adoresobs.tumblr.com/">@adoresobs</a>!</li>
<li>
<b>INSPIRATIONS -</b>  <a href="https://tmblr.co/mEVnYFFaHWkjLxGqAQ6EDWA">@zodiyack</a> ‘s <em><a href="https://zodiyack.tumblr.com/post/189916606860/princess">princess</a>.</em> <em>anastasia (1997)</em>.</li>
<li><b>TRANSLATIONS - </b></li>
<ul>
<li>
<b>бабушка! Помоги мне! не оставляй меня здесь!! (babushka! pomogi mne! ne ostavlyay menya zdes’!) </b>- grandmother! help me! don’t leave me here!</li>
<li>
<b>медвежонок! я не могу с тобой связаться! (medvezhonok! ya ne mogu svyazat'sya s vami!)</b> - little bear! i can’t reach you!</li>
<li>
<b>пожалуйста, не оставляй меня здесь одну! (pozhaluysta, ne ostavlyay menya zdes’ odnu!) </b>- please don’t leave me here alone!</li>
<li>
<b>медвежонок! </b><b>(medvezhonok!) </b>- little bear!</li>
<li>
<b>мой медвежонок? это правда ты? (moy malen'kiy medved’? rto pravda ty?) </b>- my little bear? is that really you?</li>
</ul>
</ul><p>
  
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</p><p>[y/n/n] didn’t recall much from her life. at night, she would lay in her small cot in the orphanage she’s been in since as long as she could remember (literally), and just think back on her life, index finger tapping on the hand that was folded on her stomach, foot twitching as a cold breeze blew through the room. nobody knew anything on where or when she was born but generalized where she was from by her accent. her w’s turned to v’s, rolling her r’s whenever it was not necessary, and her th’s turned to either t’s or z’s. given by this, the overseer at the orphanage decided to call her the “little russian”. she gave her a fake birthday and age and decided that it was good enough. on some of the nights, she cried, not being able to see any familiar faces that she has possibly seen before coming to the orphanage, chest heaving as anxiety coursed through her veins, freezing her to her bed.</p><p>she’d go to sleep, head pounding, temples wet, curling into her body like she was hugging herself. her fingers cradled the necklace around her neck, the small disk engraved with <em>together in london</em>. during these moments, bright blue eyes would appear into her memory, a boy with dark hair and pale skin smiling up at her, and every time she tried to reach him, he would disappear into oblivion. she later learned to just stay put, watching them from a distance away. these dreams would seem so short, but when she would wake, the sun was already peeking through the windows, the lace curtains not stopping the harsh rays from reaching [y/n/n]’s eyes. </p><p>she hated waking up. hated the fact that those blue eyes she’s fallen in love with would vanish when she opened her eyes again to meet the brand-new day. her eighteenth birthday was coming up, and with that meant that she would have to leave the orphanage for good. she would miss little natalie, who hugged [y/n/n]’s legs every time she got scared, who would run into her arms and hug her as tightly as she could every time she saw the older female. </p><p>
  
</p><p>stepping foot into the snow, [y/n/n] breathed in the chicago air, which would get quite disgusting (according to [y/n/n]) during certain days, and she avoided all of the areas that would get especially rough. she walked, cheeks bitten with cold, breath coming out in little clouds in front of her mouth, arms hugging around her as she set her eyes on the city. she had to get a job, she knew it, despite not have worked a paying day in her life. she could get a cleaning job, maybe, since she was basically in charge of cleaning the entire orphanage as the younger kids played around. the older males would just sit around and talk, pretending that they were full grown men in a country club, apple juice taking the place of actual whisky. they never paid attention to [y/n/n] as she scrubbed the floor with a soapy rag, knees aching after having spent a few hours on them, making sure all of the mud and dirt was gone, a thing of the past. </p><p>she didn’t care if she had to stay on her knees again, just as long as she had enough money for food and an apartment. maybe she could live in a settlement house, where the progressive women opened their doors to immigrants and people in need. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“mrs. mcdowell, I’m back,” the young adult stepped foot into the house, taking off the small bonnet from her gibson bun, sweeping back a few of the tendrils of hair behind her ear. she put up her bonnet on the coat rack, feeling the overwhelming sense to take off her corset and lay in bed, but her grumbling stomach protested, asking for food aggresively as her feet carried her into the dining room/kitchen area. </p><p>“i made some glazed ham, carrots, mashed potatoes, and some bread rolls if you want any,” the older woman ladeled a heaping scoop of said things into a china plate, picking up the silver platter mountained with yeast rolls. "i’ll pour you some whiskey,” she settled everything down and busied herself with taking the cork out of the clear ornate bottle she always poured her bought alcohol into, left hand carrying a small lowball glass. </p><p>“i’m too young, mrs. mcdowell,” [y/n/n] objected, taking off her white apron and settling it on the back of her chair. the other woman held up a finger, wagging it from side to side as she moved to put the whiskey down, the brown alcoholic liquid sloshing inside of the lowball glass. “you work too hard, child, you deserve one glass before bed,” she remarked. “and i’ve told you to call me marie when we first met, did i not?” she raised an eyebrow as she set the alcohol down in front of [y/n/n]. </p><p>“you did,” [y/n/n] nodded, picking up her fork and began digging in, eating as fast as she could in order to get to bed quicker and see those blue eyes again.</p><p>
  
</p><p>lately [y/n/n]’s dreams have become a bit more vivid, making her see images of fire and a large train driving away, picking up speed as a little girl screamed, “<em>бабушка! Помоги мне! не оставляй меня здесь!</em>” a small hand shot out, dainty fingers reaching for the mature hand that had stuck out from the back of the train, <em>“медвежонок! я не могу с тобой связаться!” </em>with this indicator, the young girl’s leg ran faster, heart beating against her chest as she tried to reach the woman with the white hair. </p><p>“<em>пожалуйста, не оставляй меня здесь одну!</em>“ the girl cried, and their fingertips touched, the older woman’s lithe fingers wrapping around the girl’s wrist, but a rough bump on the track caused them to slip, the bairn flying back and hitting her head on the pavement. her eyes closed, pain exploding on the back of her head, breaths shallow.</p><p>“<em>медвежонок!</em>” </p><p>[y/n/n] woke up with a sharp breath, a cold sweat lining her body as she panted, and she sighed, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. she hated that dream. hated seeing the grandmother’s face of anguish, hated seeing the fires blossoming everywhere, and especially hated the young girl’s cries for help. she must have been very important if she was scared to be in a place like that.</p><p>
  
</p><p>“next!” a man by the name of stone gossard yelled out, eyebrows furrowed as he shook his head, taking notes on the pad of paper he brought. “next!” came in a girl with [y/h/c] hair, wearing a white lace dress with fur lining, a part that kept her neck and wrists warm in the cold winter air outside. she carried a broom in hand, “i’m sorry, sir, but no one is out there anymore. that seemed to be the last one.”</p><p>stone’s furrowed eyebrows deepened, picking up the photograph of grand duchess [y/n] romanov, and realizing that they looked very similar. she would be the perfect bait for that $15,000 the dowager empress marie was willing to give to the person who found her last granddaughter first. stone thumped his fist on the table, causing [y/n/n] to jump in the air. “how would you like to be [y/n] romanov for a while?” he smirked at her. “i’ll give you half the profits.” </p><p>“how much is the profits?”</p><p>“$15,000, and… from what i see you doing, you are not of high standing and could use some money.”</p><p>[y/n/n] looked at the floor, calculating how much half would be. <em>$7,500 would still be a lot of money,</em> she thought. she could use it for a new house, a new car maybe. </p><p>“alright, i’ll be your grand duchess for a while,” she smiled at him.</p><p>
  
</p><p>[y/n/n] looked out of the ship’s window, head resting on her hand, watching seagulls fly and people walk past. she didn’t want to leave her dorm, feeling a little sick at the moment, but she was bored out of her mind. the book she brought with her was already read twice, and the other form of entertainment was music, but the dining hall was closed until dinnertime. “dowager empress marie is currently in london,” stone had informed her when he asked her to pack. a few days had passed since that interactive, they boarded on a boat from ellis island in new york and were now on their way to london.</p><p>[y/n/n]’s dreams have taken a toll on her, the young girl no longer wanting to see the fires and the woman that struck a chord on nostalgia in her heart. but why did she feel like she remembered that place despite her not remembering what seemed like half of her own life?</p><p>
  
</p><p>the two of them met jeff ament, someone who used to be in the russian court, and during their travel, jeff made [y/n/n] study everything she could on the romanov family if she were to fool marie. it was everywhere, so many names and faces to remember, but she knew she had to do it. </p><p>“shoulders back and stand up tall,” he scrutinized her way of standing. “and do not walk but try to float.” he gave her an encouraging smile, lending her a gentle hand as he helped her sit like a royal. “now, elbows in and sit up straight. and never slurp your stroganoff.”</p><p>“i never cared for stroganoff,”  [y/n/n] said delicately, making jeff smile widely. </p><p>“spoken like a true romanov.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>“now here we have kropotkin, who shot potemkin in the botkin,” jeff pointed at two faces in the book he held. “and dear old uncle vanya loved his vodka,” another face. “got it, [y/n/n]?”</p><p>“no!” </p><p>“the baron pushkin, he was short. count anatoly had a wart. count sergei<br/>wore a feathered hat.”</p><p>“i heard he’s gotten very fat,” stone added.</p><p>“and i recall his yellow cat,” [y/n/n] got excited, pointing a finger in the air, smiling as jeff rose an eyebrow at stone.</p><p>“i don’t believe we told her that.”</p><p>stone shook his head in disbelief, eyes wide as they looked back on [y/n/n], who was merely looking at all of the photos, mumbling to herself, trying to remember all the names and important events they were involved in.</p><p>
  
</p><p>five days later, the boat landed in england, [y/n/n] breathing a sigh of relief when her feet touched dry land again. stone grabbed her hand and led her through the crowd, muttering something about meeting up with a man named edward vedder (preferred to be called eddie), who was close to [y/n] before the revolution happened. since the day of her family’s demise, he has been searching far and wide for the last grandduchess, the love he held for her still unbreakable despite it being almost 12 years since they last heard of her. </p><p>[y/n/n] shook her leg in the car as stone drove down a narrow road, men in clean business suits and women in colorful dresses passing by them, head resting against the window. “how much longer until we get there?” </p><p>“however long it takes,” stone grumbled, tapping the wheel with a finger, breathing deeply as the scenery changed. “he’s already in marie’s house, we’ll meet him there, and you just answer marie’s maid’s questions as truthfully as you can. is that simple enough?”</p><p>[y/n/n] nodded her head quickly, remembering the crash course he and jeff gave her. her heart beating quickly in her chest, anxiety coursing through her veins, but she cleared her throat and opened the car door, breathing in the scent of roses that were planted in the garden in front of the house. the necklace around her neck felt heavy for the first time in years, and she and stone walked up the large steps to the door. “what if i fail?” she asked him. </p><p>“then we don’t get the profits,” he knocked on the door, the sound of shuffling coming from the inside.</p><p>“coming!” a female voice calling out from the inside. [y/n/n] crossed her arms, waiting patiently as the lock turned, opening to reveal a plump blonde woman, possibly in her late fifties, beaming up at them brilliantly. “we’re here to see dowager empress marie,” stone informed her. "i believe i’ve found [y/n] romanov.”</p><p>“her highness does not want to see any more people, but i’ll see what I can do,” the woman said. “come in,” she moved out of the way, the two young adults stepping in the amazingly furnished home. a man with dark brown hair and brilliant blue eyes looked up from his spot on the couch, and the sight of him caused  [y/n/n] to gasp. it looked like the man from her dreams. were her dreams premonitions? did they tell her of who she was going to meet or had already met? but brown hair and blue eyes were common traits, so she just shook her head and tried to take him out of her mind. why did he feel so familiar though? “sir,” the woman, who had introduced herself as ethel, said, “if you would please take a seat. i’ll be interviewing [y/n/n] alone in the other room.” stone nodded and sat down, ethel taking [y/n/n]’s hand in hers and leading her into another sitting room. </p><p>eddie’s head perked up at the sound of the girl’s name, since it sounded a lot like a nickname for [y/n]. But [y/n] was said to be dead, though marie and eddie didn’t want to believe it. they were the ones who tried to help her escape, after all. but… the key word was tried. </p><p>“alright,” ethel’s motherly tone resonated from out of the room, “ [y/n/n], meet dowager empress marie feodorovna, mother of tsar nicholas ii. your grace, mr. stone gossard believes her to be grand duchess [y/n] romanov.”</p><p>marie looks at her, a hard expression on her face, looking at her from the tips of her toes to the small stray hairs on her head. “you certainly look like my little bear,” she comments. “but <em>are</em> you <em>really</em> my little bear?” she raises an eyebrow at her. “sit.” [y/n/n] moves to sit in the large armchair need the fireplace, marie sitting across from her. </p><p>outside, eddie listened to the conversation going inside the room, straining his ears to hear everything. “where were you born?” marie asked the female in front of her.</p><p>“peterhof, russia.”</p><p>“<em>when</em> were you born?”</p><p>“june 18, 1901. i am currently 19 years of age.”</p><p>“what was your favorite thing to do when you were younger?”</p><p>“pull pranks on the household staff,” she remembered short tidbits as this queenly woman quizzed her. “i used to kick and scratch at my playmates, too. because of this, I was called <em>imp</em> by father.” </p><p>“did you have any pets?”</p><p>“we all did, but mine was jimmy, a cavalier king charles spaniel. he was killed in a fire,” tears flooded her eyes.</p><p>“what was your favorite subject in school?”</p><p>“i hated school,” she shook her head. “i would always try to bribe my tutors into giving me good grades. it didn’t work most of the time.” </p><p>it was time for the hard question. “how did you escape?” eddie perked up, pressing an ear to the door, wanting to hear what this girl said. </p><p>“i don’t…” [y/n/n] shook her head. “i…” she cuts herself short, furrowing her eyebrows as she looked down at her hands, neatly folded on her lap. “the wall in the palace moved. there was a young boy with brown hair and bright blue eyes. his name… it started with an e…” all this information came pouring out of her, and she wondered how she was remembering all of this now. “but he was my best friend. he didn’t care if i kicked him or scratched him, and he told me he loved me the same day we were escaping. and then, i remember an older woman, holding out her hand for me from the back of a train. she kept yelling that she couldn’t reach me, and i kept begging her not to leave me alone. and everything went black. that’s all i remember, i’m sorry.” she looked up to see the empress staring straight at her, tears in her eyes, flooding them as her chin trembled.</p><p>“[y/n]?” marie breathed out. “мой медвежонок? это правда ты?”</p><p>all of her childhood memories came rushing back, the warmth of her grandmother’s touch, the scent of the cologne her father always wore, her mother’s hair tickling her cheek whenever she hugged her. everything. “it’s really me, baba,” she nodded, sobbing as marie hugged her tightly, crying everything she has been meaning to cry for all these years. she remembered seeing her family being killed in front of her, seeing the blood seeping out from the bullet wounds from the back of their heads, the adrenaline she felt when she fled the scene, angry men cursing at her. </p><p>“i’ve waited for so long!”</p>
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<a name="section0002"><h2>2. - once upon a december ii</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
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<p></p><div class="daUfr"><p> </p>
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<li class=""><a href="https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fforms.gle%2FNLgYK4p3oHA7YcZv9&amp;t=M2ExNjY4ZGIxMjUwNzVhZjU2YzJjMjY5ZTc4MWRhNDQ4NjhjYjQyNCw3ZGFkY2FiYzYzMzJkZmVjYWQxMTIxMzhkOWQ3YzRmNWNlODJjNDA2&amp;ts=1608138357"><em><strong>ADD YOURSELF TO MY TAGLIST!</strong></em></a></li>
<li class="">anastasia!au. 1900s!au. after [y/n]’s narrow escape from the alexander palace, she lost most, if not all, memory of her childhood, only remembering the tiny details that would help her later on in life. this is the second part of a duology.</li>
<li class="">
<strong>THIS FIC CONTAINS </strong>a generalized russian accent; this story is both of my own creation and inspirations (listed below); mentions of death.</li>
<li class="">
<strong>A/N </strong>- layout by <a href="https://adoresobs.tumblr.com/">@adoresobs</a>!  the description of the dress i’m going for the coronation clothing and crown is <a href="https://64.media.tumblr.com/17e9014d1a4b2b1f41646e2d889957cf/tumblr_inline_omu3hlj7i31slyolb_500.jpg">empress sissi</a>. the wedding dress is also by <a href="https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fi.pinimg.com%2Foriginals%2F4d%2Fa2%2F7a%2F4da27a7c987bf1865ca0cb20346296c2.jpg&amp;t=YjM5ODNlZDRhMWE4NDAxMzA1ZmYzYTI2NGI2YzIxOWRhN2IzMDFmMixlMmUzNTk3NDE1MmRjNzY5ODM1MjMwNzdjMjU0OWMyYWRhMjM5ZDJh&amp;ts=1608138357">her.</a> i understand that she’s from the 1800s, but i just love her style. i also took the wedding traditions from an article, so if you are from russia and know about the traditions and see anything wrong, please just contact me and i’ll fix it! also, this may suck, idk.</li>
<li class="">
<strong>INSPIRATIONS -</strong>  <span class=""><a class="hVK3L" href="https://zodiyack.tumblr.com/"><span class="">@zodiyack</span></a></span> ‘s <em><a href="https://zodiyack.tumblr.com/post/189916606860/princess">princess</a></em><em>.</em> <em>anastasia (1997)</em>.</li>
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<p></p><div class="daUfr"><p> </p>
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      </p></div></div><div class=""><p>looking at herself in the mirror, [y/n] eyed the large sapphire necklace sitting on the supple skin of her chest, the heavy weight of her long hair evenly distributed around her head. the corset was tighter than usual, but she had grown used to it from the long training hours she was forced to endure. the blue eyes of the man she had seen again haunted her day, feeling them watch her when she stood in the same room with him, her heart beating wildly as she tried to shake off the feeling of hopelessness. she wanted to talk to him again, wanted to see what he was like after years of not being with him, wanted to have him hold her as he whispered that everything was alright, wanted his smell linger on her clothes. </p></div></div><div class="">
  <p>she didn’t notice the tear in her eye until it hit her cheek, her hand reaching up to immediately dab it away, not wanting to destroy the makeup on the handmaids took her time on, taking a deep breath in order to calm her heartbeat. she stood up, ready for her wedding.</p>
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  <p>eddie remembered when he asked her about the traditions of a russian wedding, wondering if they were the same as american counterparts, but quickly realizing that russian weddings tend to be grand and exciting.</p>
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    <em>“our marriage would only be legal if we register it at the zapis aktov grazhdanskogo sostoyaniya,” [y/n] had told him one night. “usually people do it before the ceremony so they have more time for the fun things. and at the ceremony, crowns will be placed on our heads. the crown is usually placed in by the priest, and is usually held in place by family or friends while we stand on top of a rose colored cloth. then games are played. It’s all very fun and can actually last a couple of days.”</em>
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  <p>the first day of the wedding was the actual ceremony.</p>
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  <p>eyeing the man at the end of the aisle, the now tsarevna [y/n] tomanov held her uncle’s hand, a smile broadening acros her lips. eddie seemed a little nervous, not liking the idea of being in front of such a large crowd, but knew he had to begin getting used to it as the impending knowledge of him being tsar of russia loomed over him like a dark cloud. he was a simple american man stuck in an expansive country as the love he held for their tsarevna kept him there. she had given him a manor home in both england and the united states, an escape from royal life so that he may go and clear his head. </p>
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  <p>but not only was there those manors; they had the livadia palace in the crimea, which [y/n] and her family had spent their summers in, the winter palace that was their main residence, and many other palaces that had been the homes to her ancestors. the doors open, revealing the tsarevna in her beautiful white gown, dark green trim showing all of the layers of the skirt, the neckline, the hem of the sleeves, and the sash loosely wrapped around her right shoulder, the rest landing softly on the skirt of her dress. soft floral patterns lined around the green trim, complementing her features perfectly. eddie gasped as he watched his bride come closer, a large smile spreading across her lips as she stared at him as if he were the only thing in the world, the only rope that tied her to this place. </p>
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  <p>the traditional vows were said, crowns were placed on their heads (which eddie found out they were <a href="https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fupload.wikimedia.org%2Fwikipedia%2Fcommons%2Fc%2Fc7%2FImperial_Crown_of_Russia_%2528copy_by_Smolensk_Diamonds_company%252C_2012%2529_-_photo_by_Shakko_01.JPG&amp;t=OWQyZmZlOGU5ZDgzNzk0YTZiNTA5M2E5MzdlMzkxYjRmOTA1MzI0MCw1YmJkODcxM2RjYTc2ZmQ5Y2NhNWNlYWNmNTJkNzdiNjQ2NTBjM2Uz&amp;ts=1608138357">tsar nicholas ii’s</a> and <a href="https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fi.pinimg.com%2F474x%2F83%2F4a%2F20%2F834a20b49f01060a223eac1a1adcc690--royal-crowns-royal-jewels.jpg&amp;t=YmFhMjQ1ODg5YjAzMTNlZTkyODBiZGEyNWE5NmJmMTAyYjlhY2RiMiw2MGJlOGNlODQzN2M4ZWVlMTZkM2Y4MjUwMTkzNmVjMmFjY2U4Mjdi&amp;ts=1608138357">tsarevna alexandra’s </a>imperial jewels) and the ornamental glasses were smashed (another thing that was counted to be luck for a long-lasting marriage), and the two spouses followed the priest around the lectern (thrice) as they held each other’s hands tightly. </p>
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  <p>the second day of the wedding consisted of a roadtrip.</p>
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  <p>they visited many important landmarks, such as visting the peter vassilevsky island to touch the 4000-year-old egyptian statues and stone griffons, or to the new hermitage portico and rub the toes of the marble atlanti statues, all for good luck on their marriage. “you know i love you, right?” eddie whispered into [y/n]’s hair, carresing her bare shoulder as they cuddled in the master bedroom of the imperial train, her warm skin pressed up against his. </p>
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  <p>snow drifted slowly to the ground, covering the grass in a cold, white blanket, reminding you of the lullaby your grandmother used to sing to you when you were much younger. “i know,” she pressed a light kiss to his lips, her thumb brushing against his cheekbone, forehead pressing against his. this was something you longed for all your years spent in that orphanage. </p>
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  <p>someone to love, hold, cherish. </p>
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  <p><em>“and a song, someone sings once upon a december,”</em> eddie’s resonant voice sang from the comfort of olivia’s room, brushing away the small tendrils of hair that stuck to the side of her face. <em>“someone holds me safe and warm,”</em> you continued, putting your chin on eddie’s shoulder. so many years had passed since the two of you were married, and many began speculating if either of you were infertile, most of which directed at you, all because you were a female. but luckily, olivia came along one hot june morning, screaming as you cried from your spot in the bed. it had been such an intensive labor and now she was here. <em>“horses prance through a silver storm,</em>” eddie’s voice joined yours, his hand holding your cheek softly.<em> “figures dancing gracefully across my memory.”</em></p>
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  <p><em>“someone holds me safe and warm,” </em>you wrap your arms around eddie, holding him tight against your body, eddie moving his hand to take yours in his, his free hand grabbing onto olivia’s.<em> “horses prance through a silver storm,”</em> the days of you and your family going on horseback rides during the heavy snowfalls flashed through your mind; it was one of the best feelings you ever experienced in your early life. the cold wind biting at your cheeks, the laughter and smiles passed around warmed your insides. <em>“figures dancing gracefully across my memory,”</em> the balls your father threw, the many people wearing heavy gowns and sparkling jewelry dancing around the floor, skirts skimming the floor and coattails flying up. </p>
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  <p><em>“far away, long ago, glowing dim as an ember,”</em> you were reminded of your time in the american orphanage, the troublesome nights of the small flashes of memory, the longing for a life you couldn’t remember. “things my heart used to know, things it yearns to remember.”</p>
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  <p><em>“and a song someone sings,”</em> you looked out the window, placing a hand on your growing belly. <em>“once upon a december.”</em></p>
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